Chapter 53

THE HORATII AND CURIATII

With a slight alteration, I might begin this chapter after the manner of
Livy, in the 24th section of his first book:--"It happened, that in each
family were three twin brothers, between whom there was little disparity
in point of age or of strength."

Among the steerage passengers of the Highlander, were two women from
Armagh, in Ireland, widows and sisters, who had each three twin sons,
born, as they said, on the same day.

They were ten years old. Each three of these six cousins were as like
as the mutually reflected figures in a kaleidoscope; and like the forms
seen in a kaleidoscope, together, as well as separately, they seemed to
form a complete figure. But, though besides this fraternal likeness, all
six boys bore a strong cousin-german resemblance to each other; yet, the
O'Briens were in disposition quite the reverse of the O'Regans. The
former were a timid, silent trio, who used to revolve around their
mother's waist, and seldom quit the maternal orbit; whereas, the
O'Regans were "broths of boys," full of mischief and fun, and given to
all manner of devilment, like the tails of the comets.

Early every morning, Mrs. O'Regan emerged from the steerage, driving her
spirited twins before her, like a riotous herd of young steers; and made
her way to the capacious deck-tub, full of salt water, pumped up from
the sea, for the purpose of washing down the ship. Three splashes, and
the three boys were ducking and diving together in the brine; their
mother engaged in shampooing them, though it was haphazard sort of work
enough; a rub here, and a scrub there, as she could manage to fasten on
a stray limb.

"Pat, ye divil, hould still while I wash ye. Ah! but it's you, Teddy,
you rogue. Arrah, now, Mike, ye spalpeen, don't be mixing your legs up
with Pat's."

The little rascals, leaping and scrambling with delight, enjoyed the
sport mightily; while this indefatigable, but merry matron, manipulated
them all over, as if it were a matter of conscience.

Meanwhile, Mrs. O'Brien would be standing on the boatswain's locker--or
rope and tar-pot pantry in the vessel's bows--with a large old quarto
Bible, black with age, laid before her between the knight-heads, and
reading aloud to her three meek little lambs.

The sailors took much pleasure in the deck-tub performances of the
O'Regans, and greatly admired them always for their archness and
activity; but the tranquil O'Briens they did not fancy so much. More
especially they disliked the grave matron herself; hooded in rusty
black; and they had a bitter grudge against her book. To that, and the
incantations muttered over it, they ascribed the head winds that haunted
us; and